Wish Upon A Star
by Silvie-chan
Summary: In which Seymour's unnamed mother, wonders about stars, her marriage, her son, and how things should be.


Wish Upon A Star 

By Silvie-chan

Disclaimer: Seymour's not mine. Neither is Final Fantasy X. Or Analéa, even if I made up her name. I'm only playing with the characters, and I promise I'll give them back when I'm done.

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So. Here I am again, with another Final Fantasy X oneshot. It's Analéa, this time. I've got another Seymour oneshot in the works, plus a tentative AU oneshot.

:::pause::: Yes. I do like writing about Seymour. Muchly. He's my favorite character in FFX, along with his mother, and Yunalesca.

:::cough::: Stupid Stole my asterisks. How nasty is that? And I can't even make emoticons anymore! :::pout:::

Hmph. Yes. Back to the fic. This is a deviation from my usual style; I usually use Third Person POV past narrative to write fics. Not exactly what this kind is exactly called, but it's different from what I usually write.

One last thing: I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed _Nanashi_. :::grin::: Especially Lucerecia LeVrai's review! I 3 constructive criticism. Dearly. :::pokes::: Just wondering, but did you get my last email, Lucerecia-san?

Kay. That's it.

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_"Need a little joy, need a little joy, need a little joy...and I have a baby boy, and need a little joy, need a little joy...need a little joy, and some dancing...need a little joy, come on baby on blue skies blue skies, oh say blue skies are in my head..."_

---

As she's sitting in her rooms, she's looking through the windows, her son in her lap. She's been doing this since she was _his_ age (and he's barely out of toddler-hood), climbing up on the window seat, always to look up at the midnight sky.

She always loved the stars. She can't see them anymore; the branches of the huge trees are twining to form a roof... A roof she can't see through. She misses them; the stars had always been there before, and now they're gone. But still she sits at the window seat, looking longingly through the clear glass, hopelessly searching for a sky she hasn't seen in years.

She's a Djose woman, through and through. She has her father's thin nose and high forehead, and her mother's eyes and mouth. They say her grandfather had black hair like hers, but since she only knew him as a chuckling man with bright blue-violet eyes, and a cloud of gray hair around his face, she can never be too sure.

She brushes a bit of her son's hair out of his eyes, although she's careful to keep his forehead covered. If there is anything in this awful place keeping her here, it's him. Oh, she loves her son. He reminds her a bit of her grandfather, cautious and careful, and far too serious (_He's too young to look so sad,_ she can't help but to find herself thinking). But there are times when he gives in, and he'll act just like the other children she had known, but _only_ when he's alone with her, as if he's afraid someone would disapprove...

She loves children. To her, they're wonderful; little bundles of joy and mischief and laughter...

...not like the children here. They are quiet, and faded in the background, as if afraid to grow. They are barely seen, and most certainly not heard. It pains her that her son is like them...

She can remember growing up in the temple, and it had always been loud with the shrieks of children as they ran through the halls. The priests, and her father, hadn't really approved, but Djose was the temple devoted to the children. So...they were allowed to run, and to play.

She had hoped that her son would be like the children she can remember. She had hoped he would bring life back into this dead world that she found herself in. She had hoped...he would have been like her, and her brothers and sisters.

Instead, he was like his father. A pale shadow of a boy, she wishes he would just...be a child. He loves to smile, but only when it's just the two of them, and sometimes it seems the only way she can get him to laugh is when she tickles his ribs, and the soles of his feet (she knows _exactly_ where he's the most ticklish).

She wants to take him out of this awful, restrictive place, and take him back home to Djose, where a child like him _belonged_ (Nobody there was _strange_ or _weird_; they all were same under the name of Yevon.), where he could flower...so he could laugh and cry and be afraid without worrying about adults looking down at him with stern and disapproving eyes.

There are days when she asks his father if they can go out, and have a picnic in the woods. It's the closest thing she can get to actually _leaving_ this place (she wants terribly to leave, so she can see the _sun_ again, so she can wish upon a star, so she can tell her father she loves him before he dies).

So, he lets her take her son out to the forest, and the two of them go and sit underneath the ancient trees eating their meatless meal, with a small group of guards and servants lingering behind them (though they're supposed to pretend they aren't there). After that, they'll stay a while, and he'll toddle out a bit, and share one of his rare giggles with her, as a butterfly lands on his nose. She'll laugh too, and scoop him up, whispering her affections to him in his tiny ears.

She loves her son. Loves him so much it hurt. Loves him so much that it's worth living in this beautiful cage.

She does not love her husband. No. She respects him...fears him, if only a little.

Their marriage is one...of _convenience_.

And why not? It united Guado and human...the price to pay was not...too strenuous. After all...she's just one woman. And shouldn't the people's happiness, and the Summoners' lives be worth more than her happiness?

That's what she tells herself every day. What she's told herself since the beginning.

She thinks that maybe, she loved him once, at the very start. But... It did not last, and it is gone now, and she is all alone in a strange world she can not begin to understand.

She looks down at her child. He's such a sweet boy. She knows he deserves better than this; she wishes with her whole being that she can bring him _home_ (this place is not _home_; home is a place of the sea and storms and stone). She wants to hold him tight as they sit in their room when a Summoner comes, and then they can laugh as they can feel the room shake as it's lifted up, suspended by lightning. She remembers laughing with her father when this happened... Oh, she remembers so many things about Djose, and she aches to go home.

She's ignoring the shouts outside of her room, and she prays to Yevon that he precious little boy won't wake up, so he won't have to hear the awful things people are saying about him. Even if he can't understand all of it, she knows he can pick up on the underlying message of _They are not like us_, of _They will never be part of us_, and _Get rid of them_.

It hurts. At least... At least she has accomplished what she came here to do.

Their peoples are not fighting anymore. Not with each other, at least.

She knows the people here hate her. It doesn't matter to her (it stopped mattering a long, long time ago). She's grown used to the thinly veiled disdain behind strange, inhuman eyes, just as she's grown used to not eating meat (she misses fish most of all). She sighs, and strokes the top of her son's head.

She just wishes things would be different.

She wants to go home. She hates this dark, dank place, with its ancient customs that she could never begin to understand. The closest temple is so far away, surrounded by ice, and the journey would be too long, and too dangerous. Last time she went to the temple, her little boy caught a cold, and his fragile immune system collapsed under the strain.

She blinks back tears as she remembers this. She had been so _afraid_ that day. The way he stared up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, his breathing wet...

It had frightened her. Terribly. She remembers sobbing prayers out to Yevon, begging him that he would not take away her only son (_Please, please don't take him_, she remembers thinking. _He's all I have here, and if he were to die, I would be soon to follow..._).

Yevon had heard her prayers it seemed, and her son lived.

She isn't sure if her husband is glad of this fact.

This angers her. How can he just _not care_ if his only son lives or dies? How can he _not care_ about a wonderful boy, a special child who could _Summon_, if he only had the training. A child who is his _son_. Who was talented in both black and white magic, who only wanted to please, who was so loving, so caring, so... Wonderful.

Yes. She loves her son. She wishes that his father would just turn around, and _see_ him and his gifts, not all of his flaws.

_It's not really his fault_, she tells herself. _He's busy. He's Guado, and is blinded by prejuidice. **It's not his fault; don't you dare blame him, you selfish whore.**_

Sometimes she hates herself, and the choices she made.

Why? Why had she done this? She feels like she's dying inside...

Then she looks down again, at her son, and feels a swell of pride. He will never be his _father's_ son. He is hers, and hers alone. Hers to mold, hers to shape, hers to love. She leans down, buries her face into that soft hair, and breathes in the smell of him. He smells like new rain and wood. She smiles as she closes her eyes, and kisses him on the forehead.

If Jyscal would not see, would not love this boy, then she would. She'll show the world how wonderful he is, and they will love him. Of this, she is sure.

She knows that Jyscal will send them away. Not now; not soon. Her son (never his) is too young, too frail. He'd probably die on the trip... And she knows, that even if her husband does not love her son, it would kill him to know that because of him, the child had died.

She does not know what she will do if her little boy dies. Tears find their way out of her eyes, dribbling down her cheeks, falling off into her son's hair.

She doesn't want to be left alone again, so she holds the boy close, as if afraid that he will be ripped from her arms.

**_Owari_**

Emotional dependency sucks, doesn't it? Take one away, and they both will fall. Yup: Analéa angst. Review?

Silvie


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